


Under a Black Sky

by kalirush



Series: Black Sky AU [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Aliens, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Community: fmagiftexchange, Ed and Winry didn't grow up together, F/M, Spaceships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-01
Updated: 2011-11-01
Packaged: 2017-10-25 14:28:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/271302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalirush/pseuds/kalirush
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Major Edward Elric of the Amestrian Interplanetary Force has lost his brother and his limbs in a Bug Raid. Doctor Winry Rockbell of Med Base Chiron will have to try to put him together again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Evil_Little_Dog](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evil_Little_Dog/gifts).



> Done for the October [FMA Gift Exchange](http://fmagiftexchange.livejournal.com/). The prompts I used were AU, hurt/comfort, Ed/Winry. This thing grabbed me and wouldn't let me go until it was over with.

The soldier twisted, his maimed body soaked with sweat. “Al...” he cried. “Al?”

“Doctor Rockbell?” the nurse called across the room. “He’s clearly in pain, and we’re already at the highest safe dose of dexomorph. What should we do?”

Winry looked up from the patient she was examining, a frown on her face. “Dammit,” she said. “We’re going to have to move him; we can’t have him disturbing everyone else.”

“We don’t have room in any of the other wards,” the nurse pointed out. “We’re at capacity as it is.”

Winry sighed. “Put him in my office,” she said. “There’s room, and I can keep an eye on him. God knows I can work through the sound of screaming if I have to.”

The nurse started packing up the IV stand and charts and meds. “This damned war,” she said, her tone frustrated. “He looks about twelve. The fucking Bugs don’t care who they kill, do they?”

“He’s twenty,” Winry pointed out. “And a Major. Some kind of weapons tech prodigy, apparently. Brass keeps asking about him.”

“Still,” the nurse said, wheeling the bed towards Winry’s office. “If we wiped every Bug out of the system tomorrow, it wouldn’t be too soon for me.”

\----------------

He was fighting the drugs. It took Winry an hour to realize it. She had patient reports to write and yet more requests for meds and supplies to fill out- not that they were likely to be any more fruitful than her last round of requests. She mostly ignored the moans and struggling of the young man in the bed behind her, on the grounds that there wasn’t anything she could do about it.

The moaning didn’t stop, though, no matter how many times she made sure that his dexomorph levels were steady at the highest setting, or checked for fever, or made sure his vitals were even. “Al,” he called, as she was checking for the nth time. His eyes blinked groggily open, and Winry suddenly realized that it wasn’t just that he was coming awake because the pain was so severe; it was also because he was actively struggling to reach consciousness.

“Go back to sleep, Major Elric,” she told him, curious as to what the hell was so important that he would fight like this. “You’re in a med base on Chiron. You’re not going to die. I know for a fact that your wounds hurt like hell, and trust me, you’ll be better off being unconscious for the worst of it.”

“Al,” he said, weakly. “Where’s Al?”

His eyes were yellow, Winry realized. Weird color- maybe he was one of the outer colony half-breeds? But they barely let outer-colony types in the military. Winry sighed. “I don’t know who you’re talking about,” she said. “I can try to find out, if you’ll go to sleep and stop disturbing my other patients.”

“Al..phonse,” he insisted, his face tightening into a rictus of pain and determination. “Alphonse Elric.”

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll look into it. Just relax, alright? Let us make you better.”

He relaxed only fractionally. “Promise?” he got out, looking exhausted by the effort.

Winry frowned. “I said I would, didn’t I? Now go back to sleep before I reconsider adding surgery-grade sedatives to your meds.”

\----------------

Alphonse Elric was his brother, of course. The picture in Alphonse’s file showed a handsome young man- 19 years old- with the same yellow eyes as his brother. They were from Resembool colony, not far from where the Bug trouble had first started, which probably explained why the older brother had joined the military so young. Alphonse wasn’t official military, but was listed as a civilian advisor to Major Elric’s staff. He was also listed as Missing In Action. The date was the same as the date of Major Elric’s injury.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get any information about what, exactly, had happened to the brothers. It was above her pay grade, apparently.

\------------------

Once the Bug spit was out of his system, they let him wake up. It was caustic stuff, Bug spit, with a neurotoxic component. Hopefully, Elric would be able to really heal now that it had finally broken down.

“Al,” was, predictably, the first thing he said after he came awake again. It was a demand this time; not a request. Apparently, he remembered his earlier flirtation with consciousness.

“You should rest,” Winry told him.

“No, dammit,” he said, trying to push himself upright with his single arm. “Where is he? Tell me!”

Winry sighed. “He’s missing. That’s all I know; everything is classified to hell and back.”

He squinted at her. “You’re a doctor,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “Doctor Rockbell,” she said, by way of introduction.

“You’re young to be a doctor,” he said, blinking.

“You’re young to be a Major,” she shot back.

“Fuck being a Major,” he said. “Call me Ed.” He fell back onto the bed again. “One of my arms is gone,” he observed, dully.

“A leg too,” she said. No point in sugar-coating it. If he was going to flip out, best to get it over with.

He pulled the blanket aside, blinking at the stump of his left leg. “Fuck,” he said, simply.

“Once you’ve healed a little more, we’ll fit you with some really great prosthetics,” she promised him, smiling. “I’m the best, you’ll be pleased to know. It’s why they stationed me out here- half our patients come in missing one limb or another.”

He scowled. “You don’t have to sound so happy about it,” he said.

She shrugged. “I like my work,” she said. “Would you rather get a prosthetics engineer who didn’t?”

He stared at the ceiling, his yellow eyes blank. “I need to contact my superiors,” he said.

\----------------

Lieutenant-Colonel Hughes arrived the next day, on the afternoon shuttle. Winry made an excuse to loiter around while they talked. They hadn’t moved him back into the general ward; he was still in her office.

Ed scowled when he saw the older man. “What, the bastard couldn’t be bothered to come himself?”

“He’s a busy guy, Ed,” Colonel Hughes said, cheerfully. “I brought pictures, though, if you miss him. And of course, I have lots of my adorable Elicia, too!”

“Where the fuck is my brother, Hughes?” Ed growled.

Colonel Hughes’ face went serious. “I don’t know, Ed,” he said. “We were hoping you could help us with that. What do you remember about the... incident?”

Ed threw his head back, grimacing with frustration, and, Winry was sure, more than a little pain. “Nothing, dammit. I don’t remember a goddamned thing. The last thing I remember, we were on our ship, traveling to Eris. Al was reading this stupid romance novel that Sheska gave him. Then I woke up here, and I knew there was _something_... that Al was in _trouble_...” He trailed off, looking into the distance. “FUCK!” he screamed, slamming his fist into the wall next to the bed.

That was enough. Winry came forward. “If you don’t calm down, Ed, I’m going to sedate you,” she warned. “I’m not letting you hurt yourself because you’re upset.”

Ed looked up, snarling- and then quailed at the steel in her blue eyes. She had been working on her “troublesome patient” look since she was twelve; she had it down pat. “We have to find him,” he said, sullenly. “He’s alive, I know he is. He’s not dead.”

“Nobody said he was,” Colonel Hughes said, reassuringly.

Ed looked up at her, and there was fire in his eyes. “Doctor Rockbell,” he said. “How soon can I get those prosthetics?”

\-----------------

“Tell me about Al,” Winry suggested, checking over her tools. It usually helped if a patient had something to concentrate on other than the procedure. Besides, Ed seemed totally focused on his brother; she was curious.

“What about him?” Ed said, irritable. He was usually irritable.

“He’s not in the military, right?” Winry said, filling a syringe. “Why not? I know you joined ridiculously young, but he’s of age now. Don’t you want him working with you?”

“They wouldn’t let him work with me,” Ed pointed out. “He’s my little brother. There’s rules. Besides, one military lapdog in the family is enough.”

“You don’t like the military?” Winry asked. She moved to his arm, and had the needle into the tender flesh of his stump before he realized it was happening.

“Dammit, woman!” he swore. “Warn me!”

She shrugged. “It’s easier if you don’t know it’s coming,” she said, unrepentantly. “The military?” she repeated.

“Fucking pack of useless jerkwads,” Ed said, watching her hands as closely as he could.

“Why’d you make so much effort to join up, then?” she asked, powering up her osteolytic laser. “Fourteen’s kind of young. You had to have gotten some kind of exception to enlist.”

“I was smart enough,” he said, setting his face against the pain as she began reshaping his stump. “I got my CO to vouch for me. It was for my mother. And Al, of course.”

“Your mother?” Winry asked, keeping him talking. She focused mainly on the task at hand.

“She was sick,” Ed said. “Dead now. I thought... if I had access to good enough labs.... I thought I could save her. Besides, we needed the money.” He gritted his teeth. “That’s why I stayed in after she died: the money. Should never have done that. Maybe if we’d gone planetside, we could have- Al wouldn’t have-”

“What’s Al like?” Winry said. Ed was starting to work himself up; she clearly needed to get him onto a new subject. “I saw his file; he’s a cutie.”

“Ha,” Ed laughed, with the merest spark of humor. “Girls always say that about him.”

“Don’t they say that about you?” she teased.

“Not hardly,” he said. “General consensus is, I’m a rude, inconsiderate jerk. Oh, and my hair makes me look gay.”

“I kind of like your hair long,” Winry said. “It’s an unusual color- you don’t usually see a blond that vibrant. Is it related to your eyes?”

“Are you asking if I’m a half-breed?” Ed asked, acerbically.

“I’m just curious,” she protested. She was almost done with the laser and ready to begin fitting the neural interface. “If it mattered medically, it’d be in your file.”

“Whatever,” Ed said, looking away.

“See if I try to give you a compliment again,” Winry muttered.

“See?” Ed said. “Rude, inconsiderate jerk. I guess I can add ‘cripple’ to the list of my undesirable qualities, now.”

“You won’t be a cripple when I’m done with you,” Winry assured him, firmly. “Neural-interface prosthetics are no walk in the park, but when the therapy’s done with, no one will be able to tell you’re wearing them unless you take your clothes off.” She checked him over to make sure she was really done, and then powered down the laser. “Brace yourself,” she said reaching for the neural interpolator. “This is going to hurt.”

\---------------------

He didn’t scream. He should have; she was manipulating his nerves. He had nothing past the local anaesthetic to numb the pain, and that couldn’t dent the pain of installation at all. Winry had done this more times than she could count, and they always screamed. Maybe they started off stoic, but an hour into the procedure, every last one broke down, screaming and crying and begging for her to stop. Somehow, Edward Elric never did. He gritted his teeth, nearly biting the leather strap in two, but he never screamed. When he finally passed out from the pain, it was a relief for both of them.

He woke up just as she was about to go off-shift. “Don’ feel good,” he said, and vomited all over himself.

Winry sighed. She could go find whichever nurse was on duty at the moment, or she could just clean it up. She decided to deal with it herself. “It’s okay,” she reassured him. “Nausea’s normal after an installation. Here’s a bowl. If you need to throw up again, do it there.”

She undressed him, with his groggy cooperation. She pitched his vomit-soaked clothes and linens into the laundry. He grinned at her when she returned with clean clothes. “S’probably the last time I’m gon’ get a beautiful woman to undress me,” he observed.

She thumped him on the head- gently.

“Ow!” he protested. “Whassat for?”

“Flirting with me,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

\---------------------

When she came in the next morning, Nurse Ellen apologized to her. “Major Elric’s still in your office,” she told her. “I know he needs to be moved, but there still isn’t space- we had another boat come in over night, and-”

“It’s fine,” Winry said. “He’s still pretty out of it, so he’s not disrupting me too much. Just see that he gets moved out as soon as there’s room, okay?”

“Yes, doctor,” the nurse said.

The fever had started, Winry noted, as she came into her office. He was sweating again, and shivering. She checked his medistrip; it looked about like she expected it to. “M-morning,” he said, his teeth chattering. “Sleep well?”

“You didn’t,” she said, bluntly. “If it makes you feel better, the fever’s normal too. We have to wait for it to break before we can do the installation on your leg. It sucks, but you’ll live.”

“Good to know,” he said. He turned away from her, hiding his misery.

Winry sat down to read through her morning reports.

“Kind,” Ed said, suddenly.

“What?” Winry asked, turning.

“Al,” Ed explained. “Y-you asked about him. I d-didn’t answer. He’s kind.”

“Yeah?” Winry said, not sure what to say.

Ed curled in on himself. “He’s always picking up strays. Animals... h-humans... n-number of times I’ve had to tell him why we c- c... can’t bring a cat on board a spaceship. N-not hygienic. He believes the b-best about everyone. Even me.”

 _You should be resting_ , Winry couldn’t quite bring herself to say. “He sounds like a pretty nice guy.”

“H-he’d like you,” Ed assured her. “He l-likes everyone. Doesn’t hold grudges. D-doesn’t even blame me f-for... for Mom and Dad, n’he should. S’my fault she’s d-dead. S’my fault he left us. Al n-never blamed me. Not ever.”

It took her a moment to realize that the shaking of his shoulders wasn’t entirely shivering. There were tears streaking down his face.

“F-fuck,” he said, crying openly now. “What’s wrong with me?”

She reached out, touched him gently on the elbow. “It’s alright,” she said. “It’s the fever. You’ll be okay.”

He covered his face with his hand, clearly trying to pull himself together.

“I lost my parents, too,” she found herself saying.

“Y-yeah?” he said, wiping his eyes.

“I was eight,” she told him. What the hell, maybe it would distract him a little from his suffering. “It was pretty early in the war. Their med base was bombed. Everyone died. It would have been me, too, if I hadn’t been on Rush Station visiting my Granny.”

“Heh,” he said, weakly. “You’re a station brat?”

“Pretty much,” she admitted. “We were living on asteroid med bases up until Mom and Dad died, but asteroids and stations are practically the same thing. You’re from a proper colony, though. Was it nice?”

“N-nicest place in the world,” he said. He looked up at the ceiling. “Blue sky. D’you know how long s’been since I saw sky? N’it was g-green. Bet you’d l-like it, station brat like you. N-never seen anything so green, huh?”

“Maybe,” she said. “I’ve never spent much time on planets.”

“Al always w-wanted us to go home. Never felt like I c-could, not after she died. Stupid. S-so stupid.”

His eyes were devastating. Grief, horror, pain, self-loathing. Winry felt sick looking at him. “I’m going to give you something to make you sleep,” she told him, going to the med cabinet. “This isn’t helping you heal.”

He didn’t seem to hear her. “Why’m I here?” he asked. “S’not fair. Al’s- he’s good. N’me, everything I’ve done... What kind of world is it wh-where he’s gone, n’I’m here? What the fuck k-kind of sense does’at make?”

There was the hiss of the hypospray, and silence followed soon after. It was a relief.

\---------------------

It took a couple of days for his fever to break, and by then they’d been able to move him out of her office. She was doing her rounds when he called across the room to her. “Doctor Rockbell!”

She was pretty much finished with her current patient anyway. “I’ll see you later, Lieutenant Cromwell,” she said, and crossed the room. “Hey, Ed,” she greeted him. She wondered how much he remembered about the fever and his half-delirious breakdown. “I hear you’re feeling better. We’ll be able to do the leg soon- maybe even tomorrow, if you feel like you can handle it.”

“I can handle it,” he said, his eyes burning. “I don’t have any time to waste. Do it now, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Tomorrow,” she repeated. “We have to make sure you’re really clear of the fever, and that you’re strong enough to handle the second installation.”

“Nngh,” he groaned, frustrated. “Dammit, this is going too slow.”

“Look,” she said, imperiously, “You’re my patient, and I’m not letting you out of here until you’re whole and healthy. Rockbells have been surgeons and prosthetics specialists for four generations; this is my family pride on the line.”

“Oh, god,” Ed said, “You’re as bad as Major Armstrong.”

She narrowed her eyes. “That had better be a compliment,” she told him.

“It is,” he assured her. “For certain values of ‘compliment’.”

“Rest up,” she advised him, acidly. “You’re going to need it tomorrow.”

\-------------------

When Winry came over to check on Ed before the installation, there was a black-haired man in a military uniform sitting next to his bed. Ed was asleep, his face peaceful. The stranger sat with his fingers laced together underneath his chin, watching Ed intently.

“Hello?” she said. “Can I help you?”

He looked up, noting her coat and nametag. “Doctor Rockbell,” he concluded. “I admit, I thought you’d be older. Do you have somewhere we can talk privately?”

She led him into her office.

“Colonel Roy Mustang,” the man offered, and shook her hand. “I’m Edward’s commanding officer. I’d like to talk to you about his condition.”

“Doctor Winry Rockbell,” she returned, even though clearly, he already knew who she was. “What do you want to know?” She found herself strangely reluctant to talk about Ed to this man. It was silly; Med Base Chiron was a military facility. Mustang was Ed’s commander- she had checked, even- and he had every right to know about his subordinate’s health.

Mustang smiled, and it was charming. “Give me a general report,” he said. “When do you think he’ll be well enough to return to duty?”

She bristled, and she suddenly realized why she was so reluctant. Mustang was Ed’s CO; he cared about what Ed could do for the military, and not what was best for _him_. “No time soon,” she told him, sharply. There was no way in hell that she was letting this Mustang take that wounded, half-broken young man and throw him back into the meatgrinder of the damned war; not without a fight. Not until he was healed.

Mustang’s face fell. In the moment that his mask slipped, Winry saw a hint of genuine worry. “How bad is it?” he asked, quietly. “I’ve seen your reports, but how bad is it really?”

Winry didn’t know what to say. “He’s missing two limbs,” she told him. “He survived the Arthroid contamination, so he’s not likely to die of shock now. He’s being fitted for prosthetics, but it’s a long process. He should have his new limbs in the next week unless there are complications from the interface installation- which there might be. Two installations in a row is hard on a body. To be honest, if he wasn’t so insistent, I’d wait another week before doing the next one.”

“He wants to find his brother,” Mustang said, and she wasn’t sure if it was a realization or an explanation.

“Yes,” she said. “In any case, once he’s got his new limbs, there’s the matter of physical therapy and letting the installation sites heal. It’s going to be months at least.”

“He’s going to take that pretty hard,” Mustang said. He stood, turned away from her.

“Can I ask _you_ something?” she said, suddenly.

He nodded, his back still to her.

She crossed her arms. “Is there really any hope? For his brother, I mean. Because if he’s killing himself to get back on his feet for a dead man-”

“That’s classified,” Mustang said, turning to face her. His face looked more lined than it had a moment ago.

“I know it’s classified,” Winry snapped. She drew herself up to her full height. “But I can tell you that if I don’t think he’s got a good reason to get out of here, he won’t. Not for a long time. Not until he’s really healed, and I don’t care how hard the both of you fight me over it.”

Mustang looked her over closely, as if he were really seeing her for the first time. “Alphonse is alive,” he said, finally. “He was able to leave us a message as he was taken. We don’t know where he is, or why the Bugs want him, but we have every reason to believe that they’re keeping him somewhere.”

She let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. “We’d better do that installation, then,” she said.

\-------------------

Mustang asked to watch the procedure, but she refused. These things were never easier with an audience: not for the patient, and not for her. Ed was quieter this time, harder to draw out. It was fear of the pain, she knew. It was always like this the second time. She found herself talking about her own childhood just to fill the silence.

“Granny was a prosthetics expert,” she told him. “She pretty much trained me from the time I was eight. By the time I was twelve, I was designing my own. I wasn’t certified on the surgeries until I was eighteen, though, of course. They won’t even let you take the tests until then.”

“That’s stupid,” he said, and he seemed outraged on her behalf. “I mean, fuck, they let me come design weapons to kill people with when I was fourteen, and they wouldn’t let you start trying to save people until you were eighteen? What’s wrong with that fucking picture, you know?”

“I thought you designed weapons to kill Bugs?” she asked, lightly.

His face darkened. “They’re called Arthroids,” he said. “They’re sentient. Just because they look different doesn’t make them animals. Aren’t you a fucking doctor? I would think you’d understand that.”

 _Huh_ , she thought. “Anyway,” she said, “I was assigned to Chiron pretty much straight out of my exams. That’s where you come in.”

“Lucky me,” he snapped. For a long while, the room was filled with only silence and the smell of burning flesh. “I can understand why you’d hate the Arthroids,” he said at last, meekly. “I mean, your parents, and all.”

“My parents were killed by friendly fire,” she said, powering down her laser. She felt tired, suddenly. “Someone’s targeting computer went to hell, and everyone on Med Base Thetis died for it. I don’t hate the Bugs- the Arthroids- for it. I just hate the war. It’s all just wanton murder on both sides, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Yeah,” he said, with a short humorless laugh. “That’s about the size of it. We’re all just a bunch of bloody-handed murderers.”

“I didn’t mean-” she protested. “It’s not your fault-”

“Yes it is,” he said, savagely. “I know what I am.”

This time, he screamed as she sheathed his nerves.

\-------------------

She stayed away from him during his recovery. She monitored his condition through the medistrip and the nurses’ reports, but she let them care for him through the days of fever and chills and vomiting. He wasn’t throwing up all over her office, this time, and she had other patients to deal with. She refused to consider that it was because she knew that the illness would make him unguarded, and she didn’t think she could bear to see what was behind Edward Elric’s eyes again.

He was definitely himself, masks firmly in place, when she visited him again.

“You’re stable enough for us to put on your limbs now,” she told him. “I’ve brought you some designs, if you’d like to look over your options.”

He reached out, caught her elbow. “Are you pissed at me?” he asked, bluntly. “I know I say a lot of stupid shit. I’m sorry.”

“Of course I’m not angry,” she told him, and it was true. “Trust me, I’ve heard worse from patients. You haven’t threatened to kill me yet, so there’s that.”

“Okay,” he said. “I won’t threaten to kill you.”

“Good,” she said, and smiled at him.

They spent the next hour looking at schematics, which she explained to him with increasingly enthusiastic levels of detail.

“You are such a freak for prosthetics,” he said, laughing at her.

“That’s right,” she said, defiantly. “And you better be glad of it, too. My designs are the best!”

“Good thing they brought me here, then, Doctor Rockbell.” He smiled sideways at her, and for a moment, he looked almost shy.

“Winry,” she said. “My first name is Winry. I call you Ed; you can call me that if you want.”

\-------------------

Colonel Mustang came for Ed less than two months after his arm and leg were in place.

“He can barely walk,” she snapped at him. “He needs more time to heal, and more therapy.”

“Our medics can deal with that,” he argued. “Write up directions, and I will personally make sure that they’re followed to the letter. Whether Edward likes it or not.”

“It’s too soon,” she insisted.

“We have a lead on Alphonse,” he said, quietly, and that was that.

\-------------------

He looked almost handsome in his blue uniform the day he left. He’d gotten one of the nurses to braid his hair back- he still didn’t have the dexterity in his right hand to do it himself- and he’d obviously dressed carefully. Only the crutches spoiled the picture of a brave young soldier shipping off to war.

“I’ll be checking with Colonel Mustang about your progress,” she told him. “Don’t overdo it. Your installation sites aren’t completely healed yet. If you stress them, I might end up having to do the whole thing over again, and neither of us wants that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, dismissively. “Stop nagging.”

She hugged him. “Good luck,” she told him. “When you find Alphonse, bring him back here to visit, okay?”

He blushed. “Yeah, okay,” he said. He turned, and swung up onto the shuttle’s landing ramp.

Winry watched the shuttle until it was only a point in Chiron’s black sky.


	2. Chapter 2

Doctor Rockbell:

Enclosed are the latest notes on Maj. Elric’s recovery, as provided by our medic, Doctor Knox. He informs me that, and I quote, “that brat’s lucky he got sent to Chiron- the Rockbells make the best prosthetics in the system.” I certainly owe you and your staff a debt of gratitude for your excellent treatment of my subordinate.

As you will see from the reports, Edward is walking unassisted now for short distances. It cheers the squad greatly to see him on his feet. Hopefully, his improvement will continue apace, and you will find no cause for complaint in our treatment of your patient.

With greatest esteem,

Col. Roy Mustang

\--------------------

I thought you might want to know that the Colonel’s lead was total shit. We found an abandoned Arthroid base, but no way to tell whether Al was there or not. I’ve asked Mustang why he’s so fucking useless, but no response so far.

I hope it’s okay that I’m writing you. If it’s irritating, just tell me, and I won’t waste my time. I don’t even know why I’m doing this, except that I used to talk to Al about everything, and he’s not here anymore, and I can’t just chat with the people here. Especially not now. They all look at me like I’m a goddamn cripple. I thought you promised I wouldn’t be a cripple when you were done? Oh, yeah, I left before you were done- It’s like I can hear your voice in my head. Must have been all that yelling you did at me in phys therapy; left an imprint or something.

Other than that I’m okay, I guess. Upside of everyone tiptoeing around is that they’re mostly leaving me alone, which is nice. I’ve been doing a lot of research- mostly looking for leads on Al, of course. Ship gravity’s even easier on the leg than Chiron’s. Yes, I’m doing my time in the centrifuge. I know I’ve got to get my strength up; I don’t need you to tell me that.

Anyway, I’m tired of typing one-handed. Hunting and pecking is bullshit. I hope things are okay on Chiron.

Ed

\--------------------

Your letter finally caught up to us when we hit dirt on Phoebe. No, I don’t mind hearing about hospital shit. At least it’s different than the military shit I’m dealing with all the time.

I can’t write a long letter right now, but I wanted to let you know that we got another lead on Al. We’re on our way to Tethys. It’s Arthroid territory, so it might be a bad time. Maybe Al’s there; we don’t know for sure. Mustang says I’m not allowed off the ship during the op, but fuck him- Al’s my brother. I’m walking really well now, too. You’d be proud.

Ed

\---------------------

Doctor Rockbell-

I can understand your worry, and it’s no trouble at all to respond. Please, feel free to contact me sooner next time if you’re concerned about Maj. Elric’s well-being.

In any case, I’m sorry to inform you that part of the reason that Edward has been so remiss in responding to your letters is that he was wounded during our operation on Tethys. I know this must be distressing news, but I assure you that he (and your excellent prosthetics) are recovering admirably, and should take no long-term ill-effects from the incident.

My XO encloses a photograph of Maj. Elric, so that you can see that his worst problem at present is ill temper- a condition that I fear is without cure.

With warmest regards,

Col. Roy Mustang

\-------------------

Bastard said you wrote him. Sorry- I meant to write back sooner, but I just didn’t know what to say. Tethys was a fucking shitstorm. I guess the bastard told you I ended up in the hospital again. MB Eos isn’t as nice as Chiron. You can tell Nurse Ellen I missed her.

We found the cell they were holding Al in, but no idea where he is now. There was human blood in it, and Knox says it’s definitely Al’s. So, fuck. I don’t like thinking about that.

Hand’s doing better. Maj. Armstrong has me trying to juggle. He says it’ll help me achieve the same physical perfection he has. You don’t know him, but he’s a nutcase- he’s about the size of a house and takes his shirt off at every opportunity. Especially around me because, I quote, I “need the inspiration of a perfect physical specimen to stimulate my healing.” I guess I need to stay out of the fucking hospital so I don’t have to get any more inspiration from him.

I can’t tell you much about my work. It’s all classified. I can say that I’m not just a lab monkey, but you probably already knew that. I didn’t lose my arm and leg in a lab, right? And yes, I got your message about maintenance on the arm and leg. Yes, I’m doing it. Believe me, Mustang’s up my ass about it all the time.

Ed

\-----------------

Still nothing on Al. I can’t stop thinking about him. He’s never been apart from me so long, you know? He’s got to be so fucking scared. And there was that blood. It better have been from him stubbing his toe or something, because if they’re hurting him, I’ll... I don’t know what I’ll do. But I design machines that kill people. I’m sure I can come up with something special for those motherfuckers.

I don’t know why you’re so curious about the ship and the crew and all. It’s boring as fuck.

Okay, since you wanted to know, here’s how it works. We’re on a military ship, right, but we’re not actually the crew. That’s the Navy; we’re Army. Pretty much the Army and Navy avoid the fuck out of each other, except that us officers have to have dinner with the Navy officers. Their Captain is the boss of all of us as long as we’re on board, even though technically he’s just a Captain and me and Armstrong (Majors) and Mustang (Colonel) all outrank him. There’s also Lt. Hawkeye, and then 2nd Lts. Breda and Havoc, and then the enlisted officers, Fuery and Falman. Lucky bastards, they get to eat in our part of the ship, and no one expects them to have manners all the time. You should see how the Captain looks at me when he thinks I’m using the wrong napkin or some shit.

So that’s everybody. Traveling on space ships is boring. It’s pretty much chores and wasting time. Mustang made them set us up a lab, too, but mostly we can only design and there’s only so far we can get without any place to do tests. Still, it’s alright to spend time in there with Mustang. It’s pretty much the only time he’s not a total bastard, and he actually knows his tech. His nickname with the troops is Flame, did you know? His specialty is fire manipulation devices. It’s some pretty freaky stuff. Not my thing at all.

This took me two days to write with my one stupid hand. I hope you’re happy.

Ed

\-----------------

Dr. Rockbell-

As requested, here’s Elric’s files. Stubborn little brat’s improving faster than I thought he would. Now if he can just stop throwing himself at laser pistols, maybe he’ll actually heal up at some point.

Cheers-

Knox

\-----------------

Still bored; still no leads. It’s making me crazy, this waiting. I want to go off on my own, but I still can’t pilot a shuttle on my own with the fucking hand how it is. I know you keep saying that it needs time, and I have to be patient, but it’s been fucking months. And Al’s still out there, waiting for me.

Sometimes I have dreams that he’s not. Fuck that- that’s just my brain lying to me.

Breda and Havoc have organized a shufflepuck league. Armstrong’s in the lead right now, followed by Hawkeye. We’re kicking those Navy jerkwads’ asses. Well, except me, but I’m a cripple, so no one expects too much. There’s a lot of betting, and there’s long odds on me. I think I can still come up from behind, though.

I liked the book disc you sent; it caught up at our last fuel stop. It was pretty funny. You can send more anytime. I can’t keep too many of them after I read them though; we only get so much mass allowance on ship, and most of mine is already taken up by reference book discs.

Oh, sorry to hear command are being such jackasses. I hate asking people for things, so I sort of know how you feel. If I could kick their asses for you and make them give you your supplies, I would.

Still typing one-handed-

Ed

\-----------------

Doctor Rockbell-

Thank you and your staff most kindly for your care package for the squad. It has been some time since my men had either a shipment of new pistol fuses or home-baked goods, and they were both very welcome. My XO, Lt. Hawkeye, thanks you especially for the fuses.

Thank you also for your congratulations on our win in the ship-board shufflepuck tournament. It is no surprise that our Army men were able to best the Navy, but it is nice to know that we’re being cheered on from afar all the same.

I have included a photograph of the squad enjoying your cookies. I hope you will not think me out of line if I point out that Maj. Elric was particularly touched by the gesture.

In gratitude,

Col. Roy Mustang.

\-----------------

Thanks for the cookies. Everyone liked them. Breda kept sneaking extras when he thought no one was looking.

We stopped at Rush Station last week. Maybe your Granny already told you; I went and visited her. She’s kind of a scary lady, huh? Knox says they used to call her “the Panthress of Rush Station”. Then again, you’re kind of scary too, so maybe you don’t notice. Anyway, she gave me tea and asked all about you. I said you seemed happy on Chiron, even if you’re frustrated with the brass sometimes. She doesn’t seem to like the military very much. I guess I wouldn’t either, if they’d gotten my son killed.

Yes, I’m keeping up on my phys therapy. Not like there’s anything else to do on board ship. Especially now the shufflepuck season is over.

Oh, I typed this with two hands. It’s still slow, but faster than bullshit hunt and pecking.

Ed

\------------------

Shit, Winry. I don’t even know how to write this. I think I got someone killed. He’s dead, and it’s all my fucking fault. I’m going to have to visit his wife and kid, and what am I going to say to them?

It’s Lt. Col. Hughes. Fuck. I guess I mean Brigadier-General Hughes. They promoted him posthumously. I think you met him once- he came and visited me on Chiron. He was a good guy. I asked him to look into some shit for me, leads on Al, right, and next thing we know, someone pushed him out an airlock. Mustang’s out of his head- him and Hughes were close. He hasn’t left his quarters in days. I think Hawkeye’s going to have to go in and find out whether he’s dead of alcohol poisoning soon.

I miss Al so damned much. I can’t help feeling like it would all be better if he were just here with me. He’d know the right shit to say.

I can’t let this happen again. I’m going to find Al, and I’m not going to let anyone else get hurt in the process.

Ed

\-----------------

Hughes’ funeral was today. We made it back to Central Station in time. It’s the first time I wore my dress blues since I can remember, and I was wearing that fucking funeral sash over it. I swear the only reason Mustang got through it was because Hawkeye was practically carrying him.

I talked to Mrs. Hughes a bit. I fucking made her cry, but she didn’t seem mad at me. I don’t understand why.

Why the fuck do people keep forgiving me when I screw up?

Ed

\---------------

Doctor Rockbell-

I have forwarded your correspondence to Maj. Elric. I assure you that he is well, even if not writing regularly. Your continued interest in an old patient is admirable, but not necessary.

Col. Mustang

\----------------

I’m sending this with a friend of mine who, as you can see, needs a new arm. Her name is Lan Fan, but her files probably say something different.

I’m sorry about that letter Mustang sent. We still don’t know who killed Hughes, but there’s something going on with the brass, and with the government. It isn’t safe to transmit in the clear, and I don’t trust the military encryptions. So, I sent you one copy of this book- I know, it’s a print book- and I have the other. If I want to say something in code, I’ll do two numbers: the page and then the number of word. It’s a stupid code, but as long as they don’t have a copy of the book, they can’t crack it. I don’t want to put you in danger, but if there’s something I need to tell you, I want to have a way to do it. You probably shouldn’t write very often, though.

Be careful, okay? Just... don’t go off by yourself. And don’t trust anyone that you haven’t had around for a while.

Ed

\-----------------

Dear Dr. Rockbell-

Yes, I’m doing my maintenance. Four isometrics exercises, twenty reps, right? I was doing 3 and 40, but I think it was overdoing it. Just so you believe me, let me give you the rundown: I’m drying everything as soon as I get out of the shower; I’m oiling both limbs at least twice daily; I’m using the #34 driver to tighten screws as they get loose. I’ve only had to do that three times so far.

Thanks for your concern about my medical condition.

Maj. Elric

 _Decoded: still safe stop worrying_

\-----------------

Hey, Ellen!

How are you doing? Busy, probably. You better tell that boss of yours what for, and get a vaca-  
186 131 106 73 185 20 92 15 86 175 136 114 105 85 113 72 45 110 149 102 56 169 74 112 121 177 8 118 44 159 163 8 172 175 81 106 81 180 190 117 150 109 168 51 25 196 121 82 7 27 18 162 77 84 152 135 79 32 43 13 28 166 81 13 95 53 120 173 50 189 83 175 126 30 97 52 15 145 109 143 79 83 155 176 183 177 27

 _Decoded: I’m sending this from someone else’s machine I know what they’re saying about us but I couldn’t let you think we’re traitors they are they sold us all out everyone in the goddamn system it’s not just about my brother anymore watch your back_

\-----------------

Havoc Freight  
 _Fastest Freight in the System!_

Shipping Manifest:   
cryopod (1)

Delivery Address:  
Dr. Winry Rockbell  
Med Base Chiron  
LID #: 9472327

\----------------

Doctor Rockbell-

As the entire system is aware, things are becoming quite dangerous for us. I’m so very sorry to ask this of you, but Sgt. Fuery needed more care than we could give him if he was to survive, and so we’ve sent him to you. In this envelope, you should also find false papers for him. Hopefully, the brass don’t know of your connection to us, and you and Fuery should be able to weather the rest of this in safety.

Edward sends his regards. He has greatly missed your letters these last months. I assure you that he is as safe as any of us are.

Please destroy this letter when you have read it. It would not be safe for the higher-ups to find it in your possession.

Forever in your debt-

Col. Roy Mustang

\----------------

It’s all over. I mean, I know you know that, everyone knows that, but it only seems real now that I’m sitting and writing it to you.

I guess it’s been nearly a year since you had any contact from us. We got your message about Fuery a few months ago. I hope things were okay for you after that.

It’s still hard to believe that the Arthroid War was started by our brass to keep everyone in line. All that blood on both sides, and no point to it except to keep a bunch of fat bastards in power. Thinking about it makes me sick. Hughes is the one who found out first, by the way. I don’t think they’ve publicized that. Turns out the Arthroids figured out that some of us are sensitive enough to learn the psi parts of their language, and Al was one of those. That’s why they took him, because they were hoping he could be a translator and maybe stop the war. All those Arthroid transmissions on the news were just so much bullshit the brass was feeding us. Anyway, Hughes found the brass out and they killed him for it. Mustang is trying to find out who actually did it. I think Hawkeye’s really scared of what he’s going to do when he figures it out.

We found out that the last time the Arthroids had Al was back on Tethys, by the way. We were so close to rescuing him- if it wasn’t for my stupid fucking arm and leg, maybe-

Anyway, our military took him. We still don’t know where he is now. It’s safe to write again if you want. I wish I could visit, but Al’s still waiting for me.

Ed

\-----------------

I’m so tired, Winry. It’s not fair. We fought a war, and we won it, and things are better for everyone else, but I still can’t find my brother.

Some days, I just don’t know why the fuck I bother getting out of bed anymore.

\-----------------

I’m sorry. Geez, you didn’t have to send a vox letter. A loud one, with shouting. I’m not suicidal or anything.

I haven’t given up. I’m going to find him, and then I’m going to bring him back to you, and then I’m taking all of us home to Resembool to see those blue skies, just like I told you about. It’s a promise, okay?

Ed

\-----------------

I’ve got a lead.

Probably won’t pan out. Who knows. It’s nice to have a little hope, though.

Don’t worry. I know you’re worrying, you worry all the fucking time. I’ll be fine. If I’m not fine, I’ll tell Hawkeye to send you a letter or something this time. Or better, I’ll tell them to ship me to Chiron so you can put me back together.

Ed

\------------------

Dear Dr. Rockbell:

I’m very sorry to have to tell you this, but Edward has been missing for two weeks now. He took a shuttle, and we don’t know where he went. We have no reason to believe that he’s been killed or captured, but neither have we had any word from him. I would not have wanted to worry you, but before he left, Edward left me a note making me promise to write to you if he didn’t come back after a certain amount of time. That time has now passed. He also left a message for you, which I am forwarding unread.

I know that Edward would never have told you this, but your correspondence with him over the last few years has meant the world to him.

With regrets,

1st Lt. Riza Hawkeye

 _Sealed message:_

I’m writing this in case I’m wrong, or I fuck up again, and either way, I don’t come back.

I’m sorry. I wanted to see you again. I wanted to take you to Resembool, and show you that green grass and blue sky. You and me and Al, all together. I guess I’m breaking my promise after all.

You’ll find this out, but I made you the beneficiary in my will, given that no one can find Al. Major’s pay is pretty good, and I got all my assets back after the rebellion, so there’s a lot of it. Take the money, and set up your own clinic or something, okay? You shouldn’t have to work for the military unless you want to.

Edward


	3. Chapter 3

Winry looked at letter the lawyer had sent her. Ed’s bequest was enough money to set up a clinic, and staff it, and pay herself while she was starting up. It was the secret dream that she’d never shared with anyone, not even Ed. How had he known?

She felt numb. It had been over two years since she’d discharged Major Elric from Med Base Chiron, and more than three weeks since Lieutenant Hawkeye had forwarded his final letter to her. She supposed she was in denial, but she didn’t feel like he was dead. Somehow, it just felt like waiting for his next letter. She’d waited a long time before.

“Doctor Rockbell?” Kain said, interrupting her train of thought. “Are you okay?”

Winry suddenly realized that she had been sitting at her desk for over an hour, staring at the damned letter.

“Sorry, Kain,” she said. “It’s just... you know.” She gestured vaguely at her desk.

He nodded, looking at her with concern. “There’s a boat on approach. Its idents say it’s a troop transport, not an ambulance. They’re not responding to hails.”

She sighed. It probably meant dying men and a 40-hour shift for her crew. “Rally the troops,” she said. “When will they hit dirt?”

“Fifteen minutes,” Kain said.

“Tell the nurses to be assembled in ten,” she told him, standing up. She pulled her hair back and quickly washed her face in the small sink in her office.

When the ship landed, she was standing in front of her crew, waiting for the chaos that was sure to debark from landing hatch.

The hatch opened, and only a single figure stepped out. It was a man, cradling an unconscious, skeletal body in his arms. He walked out, grinning unabashedly.

Winry stood, gaping, unable to react.

“Winry?” Edward Elric said. “I brought Al to visit.”

Winry was a doctor, and her training took over. She got Al transferred onto one of the stretchers and checked over his vitals. She got an IV running, ordered tests for organ function, ordered thermal treatment. Then the nurses whisked Alphonse off to a treatment bay. Winry was left standing there, staring at Edward Elric. He looked surprisingly tall, she thought, absurdly.

The next thing she knew, she was in his arms- or he was in hers; it wasn’t really clear.

“You inconsiderate _jerk!_ ” she snapped at him, tears welling in her eyes. “I thought you were _dead!_ Why didn’t you send a message?”

“I _told_ you I was a jerk,” he said, laughing. “But I figured I could get here quicker than a message, and Al needed a doctor anyway.”

He was wounded, she realized suddenly. He was pale, and limping, and he had makeshift bandages tied in several places. She got hold of herself. “Come here,” she said. “I’ll patch you up. You can have the bed next to your brother.”

\----------------

It was months before Al was stable enough to travel. In the meantime, he made himself the darling of the nursing staff. Winry could see why Ed had described him as “kind”, those years ago. Al’s long imprisonment had left its mark on his psyche, but he was still a sweet, good-natured young man- if one who was prone to nightmares and depressive episodes. Winry made sure that he got treatment for those at the same time he was being treated for severe malnutrition and exhaustion.

Al and Ed were almost never apart. Ed was discharged after a few days, but took up residence in the visitors’ quarters. He still slept on the floor next to Al’s bed if Winry didn’t force him to leave the ward at night, though. The brothers were forever talking and laughing and touching each other. When Al was having a bad day, it was Ed that he called for. Ed always answered. It made Winry’s heart ache, wishing that she’d had a sibling to lean on after her own parents had died.

There were days when Ed and Al pulled her in, treating her like a third sibling, and that made her heart ache even more.

After a week, Ed’s entire squad appeared, giddy with happiness to see both the brothers alive. Winry was pleased to see the people she’d heard so much about in his letters. Mustang, though, looked paler and thinner and grimmer than she remembered him. She caught him weeping his relief in the hallway outside the ward. “I thought I’d gotten him killed, too,” he said awkwardly, by way of explanation. Winry nodded and let the man be, leaving him to the care of his Lieutenant.

She and Ed danced around each other. Winry didn’t know what she felt for him, and Ed didn’t seem to know, either. Wherever she looked, though, it seemed like Ed was there. He’d been a patient first, and then a penpal, and now- she didn’t know what he was to her. A friend, at least. Someone that she cared about and respected.

\----------------

The day before Al’s planned discharge date, Ed came to her office. He looked nervous; almost angry. “Come with us to Resembool,” he said, firmly. “I know you’ve got your work here, but you’ve got to have leave saved up. You never take vacations. So, just come with us, okay?”

“Ed-” she started, awkwardly, not sure how to answer.

“No, dammit!” he broke in. “Don’t tell me no, not yet. Just listen for a minute.”

She stared at him. “Okay,” she said, softly. “I’m listening, Ed.”

He turned, his hands clenched together behind his back. “Your letters,” he said, after a long moment. “They meant-” he broke off. “I don’t know. They were- they were the one good thing in the never-ending river of shit that was my life the last two years. Even when you couldn’t write anymore, I’d go back and read your old letters because they made me hope that maybe things would be okay someday, that maybe somebody was waiting for me. I don’t expect anything from you. I just want to show you Resembool, okay?” He looked away, his cheeks flushed pink.

“Okay,” she said, feeling strangely warm. She wasn’t sure why she was agreeing to this- she had her work, she had responsibilities. And yet, she hated the idea of Ed and Al blasting off tomorrow without her. “I’ll go.”

Ed’s face broke into a smile; an enormous, shit-eating grin. “Okay,” he echoed. “Good.”

\--------------

The sun was shining the day they landed on Resembool. There was no one waiting for them when she and the Elric brothers disembarked, but the sheep outside the spaceport baaed placidly at them.

The grass was green, and the sky was the brightest color of blue that Winry had ever seen.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * A [Restricted Work] by [Fennethianell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fennethianell/pseuds/Fennethianell) Log in to view. 




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